


The Mountain of Pride

by Kithas



Series: Demon Children Week 2019 [3]
Category: Ava's Demon
Genre: Alien Planet, Demon Deals, Fantasy, Gen, Orc, Pride, TITAN mention, alien - Freeform, pact, space fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-26 17:26:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18721618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kithas/pseuds/Kithas
Summary: Short Story made for Day 5 Pact ("Host and Demon are making a pact. What are their wishes?") for Ava's Demon's  #DemonChildrenWeek2019





	1. Chapter 1

Baeneri was a quiet city. Not so big, not so important to attract the games of politics the main cities of its planet had inside. Full of sunny boulevards, spacious shopping centers and great residential areas, it still had its ads screens full of TITAN Inc.’s products, as everything did, but it had the benefit of not being so big of an objective to the galactic conqueror to go after. And so, Baeneri was left relatively alone when the ships carrying the committees and the followers of TITAN descended into the spaceports, just a story in the news about politics, the kind of story everyone changes the channel on to just fall asleep while watching documentaries.  
Baeneri was a quiet city, bathed in sunlight from May to October like that small plant growing in the sidewalk, not pretty enough to pick it and take it home, but also cute enough to not trample it if you can avoid it. But, like every city, it had its secrets, its dark alleyways sunlight could not get into. Suspicious characters who really shouldn’t be there, not looking at all like the beautiful red-faced natives.

The kid was little, his age difficult to calculate because the strange proportions of his body. Green in color, fierce in spirit, he had nothing to do with Baeneri’s natives, and he was profoundly sick. Sick of being on a place he didn’t belong on the first place, sick of being lost, of being called not worthy by his peers and being stripped out of his family. Proud and Belligerent, the Orc people went from planet to planet, from one civilization to another, selling their weapons and their might at using them for a price. And they did well, as their planet, Threll, was pretty wealthy and respected in its own quarter of space, its king being one of the first consulted when making any decision needing battle.  
And Ydris was fierce. He was strong of arm, and could raise the sword and the hammer as well as the next orc on the line. But then, why didn’t it matter? Why, when someone saw him, the first thing they looked at were always his short, crooked legs? He didn’t ask for them! And he could fight, if only they had given him opportunities… But no, he wasn’t worthy, he wasn’t an orc. The only thing he was, with respect to his family, was a cripple.

They abandoned him, they did, and that’s how he ended up there, on a shack made of discarded boards against a wall at the end of an alleyway. And all those people were the same. They looked at him, his green skin, his fangs, his funny proportions, and they didn’t see a fearful orc. Nobody saw him for what he was. But that was about to end, very soon. Because those kids who had taken his only food and tossed it around to anger him would soon get what was going to them. All those people who thought nothing of him, would know. Because Ydris was not alone. Back in the shack, half here, half in the afterlife, a mountain with eyes stood around, called Sarran Hotua. The question of how a mountain could get into a shabby tiny shack never passed through Ydris’ mind. It was there, and that was the only thing that counted. The mountain spoke to him, and told him tales of warriors. Of conquerors. Great galactic wars in which the Ork people were only just pawns. “You want everyone to recognize you as an orc? I will give you so much power orcs themselves will fight for the right to call you one of their own!” I would make a conqueror the likes of which were only seen before in legends and tales.

The only thing he asked in return? Making good with that powers. Grabbing them and smashing its way to a legend. No orcs, no Wrathia-commander, no fools trying to make their way out of their holes. Ydris would get his worth from his peers, but, in exchange, he would make Sarran Hotua a name to be known across the galaxy, a name worth to be remembered by the Great Conqueror, TITAN Himself.

The mountain’s eyes glowed when an arm tore itself from the body, forming a rocky four-fingered hand that opened out to meet Ydris. The little orc confronted unfazed the glare of the demon, and with a handshake sealed the pact, and his own destiny by the way.


	2. Smashed Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7 of #Demonchildrenweek2019, "Vial Form"! I hope you like it, I thought it was going to be shorter but oh well. It wasn't easy conveying the feeling of a Vial Form without drawing but I thing I managed to do that.

**Now**

Ydris opened his eyes, feeling the uncaring metal floor against his green cheek, with a nice song playing in the radio. Unable to recall what had happened, he sat up slowly, trying to make a memory out of the place. A strange room, too big and different from everything he had been before. It was not his shack, that was for sure, and that raised a ton of other, more important questions. What was that room, how long had it been, or even why was his head so itchy? Those were his main concerns. The room looked better than the place he had built himself out of wood slabs on his alleyway, if only for the presence of the electric lights, the metal walls and floor that vibrated slightly, and the food packages that filled an overflown cabinet right next to him. Snacks, chocolate bars, colorful packages that promised a happy and sugarcoated experience. Nice. Now, there was just a thing that bothered the little green orc. What had happened?

**Thirteen hours ago**

The sound of the news on the street screens all over the shopping district annoyed Ydris. Well, he _knew_ already, he was aware of the immense wealth the Great Benefactor had amassed, how his followers discovered new lands to which expand civilization… He knew already when he ended up holed on that backwards town. Yes, the Great Benefactor this, the Great Benefactor that, how could he forget? Yet, they felt the need to rub it on his face, how that blue excuse for a knight was able to subdue the big and might empress Wrathia, freeing over a hundred planets that were under her rule. It was stupid, and unnecessary, and stupid. Now all the cool kids would run around the streets with their new TITAN toys, “Vengess Wars” edition, while he, Ydris, the real conqueror of worlds (that, he had been promised by the Mountain with Eyes, Sarran Hotua) did get nothing but a few looks of pity and a few coins, from the good-natured people of Baeneri. That moment, he knew he would never be treated like that again. Back with the pity, with the compassion. He was a warrior, a conqueror. If people would not acknowledge him for what he looked like, they would learn it the bad way. The orcs said that, long ago, when they still thought they could raise him as one of them: Spare the rod, spoil the child.

**Now**

Ydris didn’t fully understand it. How come, for each sweet snack he had, his tummy asked for another one. The envelopes fell around him one by one, while the green child looked around the room, looking for any hint that could pinpoint his exact situation. The muffled happy song playing beyond the metal door, the slight vibration of the floor and walls… There was something there he had a bad feeling about. All he could remember was his determination. He had fed up with being taken for an ugly cute beggar kid. He was a warrior, and he would be known for it. And he had the feeling he succeeded, right? Sarran Hotua had assured him that he would be known. He just needed that thing, and…

**Twelve hours ago**

If he wanted to be a conqueror, Ydris would do well to start thinking like one. And that meant going directly to their main authority figure: The police station. They were numerous, well-armed, and they would pose a threat in his path to conquest. Coming right up to their main gate, the orc could see the big quarters the police force had for themselves at the end of Baeneri. The high walls with barbed wire on top, the ship shelters at the end of it… The guards had big enough weapons to make him doubt his mission, but he was an orc after all, he wouldn’t yield to something as stupid as some guns. And he had his own secret weapon too. It could not end badly.  
While he entered the police station, he started to feel his bravery diminish. There were a lot of guards, and they were big and strong, bigger and stronger than him, plus their armor would surely deflect any blow a kid could send. It was something stupid, he hadn't thought it through, and the only thing he was able to get out his mouth, was a weak “on your knees!” to the nearest guard, something that didn’t even make him blink. He felt silly. Stupid, actually.  
\- Hey, little guy, what are you doing here? – The guard smiled, amused. – Do you want to report anything?  
\- You… - Ydris felt the blood rushing to his cheeks, as the guy bended to get near him, like one would do to speak with a child. – Shut up, you spineless red monkey! Don’t dare to speak like that to me, or I will make you suffer! – It was getting worse and worse with each word blurted by Ydris’ mouth, and his green skin was probably the color of the moss by then.  
\- Hey, hey there, little rascal, watch your mouth. – The guard pulled back, less amused.  
\- Calm down, Jack, I know him. – Another officer stepped into the conversation. – He’s the little homeless guy who’s around the old town, you know? The one Steve talked about the other day, remember? What’s up, buddy? Do you want to tell us some crime you witnessed maybe?

**Now**

Everything was going so well until they knew who he was. But now there were no more police, no more officers. There was only Ydris, in his room. Full from all the sugar gobbled down before, he took matters into his own hands and tried to open the door, something that wasn’t easy, being that a great force seemed to have gotten stuck it into its frame, and the only thing that he managed to do was to make some sparkles while trying to force it back open. But it wasn’t working, it wasn’t working and Ydris was feeling worse and worse by the second, until he couldn’t do it anymore and stepped back, let a warcry, and just punched the door with al its might. And the door yielded. Not only did it yield, but it bended like it was made of paper, or cloth, or anything but metal that had resisted his doing until now. Ydris breathed heavily after punching the door and dismantling it, and then looked at his fist, as if it was the first time seeing it. At least, it was the first time he saw that boulder his fist had become.

**Eleven hours and fifteen minutes ago**

\- Hey! Hey chief! – One of the officers said at the boss of the police officer. – Look, look who has come to see us! It’s the little green kid! The orc! – It was shameful for Ydris, knowing every single officer was right there, looking at here. Not fearing him nor hating his name. He was not a warrior to them. Not a conqueror. Only a little green man, a freak, something to look at and laugh.  
His efforts to break free were not only in vain, but actively mocked by the officers and the other people at the station. “Look, look at the little cutie thinking he is a warrior! He wants to be like us!” No, he didn’t. He wanted to be greater. To be respected, to be feared. But he couldn’t do it just like that. With those funny body proportions, his bobbing head, his crooked legs… He wouldn’t stand it. His pride wouldn’t allow it. All his life everyone had laughed at him. But now he wasn’t alone. Since he met the Mountain With Eyes, Sarran Hotua, he wouldn’t be alone anymore. He wouldn’t be weak, or mocked, anymore. “Become the warrior you are meant to be”, the demon said, inside Ydris. “Take that name and smash it into their brains. Take my power, and make a way to greatness, to the stars”. He would be the best warmonger the galaxy had seen. Vengess, TITANs, Sith, nobody would get to compare to him.  
_“Stop being mocked, and start being feared”._  
The power to be free from everyone’s laughs was inside him all along, and it wasn’t even a metaphor. When Ydris ripped his jagged shirt to show his bare chest, they skipped laugh at once. Because where Ydris’ belly should be, a vault door, complete with wheel combination lock, did open. The door to his inner strength, the path, as Sarran Hotua said, to greatness. He opened it while some of the officers looked puzzled and got to say a confused “What?”, he took the little bottle resting on the inside, and, without a second though, drank it whole.

**Now**

That was it. The point of no return. The point when Ydris knew he couldn’t go back to his quiet life in the back of some shops, stealing food from the restaurant. His life had ended, he got it now. He drank that vial of pure power. He smashed that door. There was no going back. Once he looked outside the room, he understood. And he wished to go back, back to the sweets, to the ignorance. But the metallic lining of the room, it’s look, sucint and aseptic, all those sweets, and even the slight shaking, enough for him to notice… That wasn’t a room in a Baeneri building. That was a cabin from a spaceship. And there was nobody but him aboard.  
The path from the porthole to his room was smashed through as if something big and hurried had passed through. Something strong enough to bend metal. Ydris looked at his hands, his new stone fists. There was no going back. He knew it full well when he drank the vial. But he didn’t know where the trip would take him.

**Almost ten hours ago**

It felt… Itchy. There was something inside, something that wanted out his own skin. The power, he could feel it running through his veins from the vial. “Stop being mocked, and start being feared”. They looked differently at him now. Cautious. “Hey, bud, what the…?” Some officer asked, but no. Not this time.

\- Stop! – The little orc’s voice thundered with a power unknown before. Cracks appeared on the floor around him. – You had your time to speak, and now you stop! I am the one speaking now, and you listen! – He closed his fists, some cracks got bigger, and the guards weren’t laughing anymore. They readied their weapons. But, then, they were not enough. – You puny… little… cowards! – With each word, a stone. With each punctuation, a piece of floor tore off its place, and became part of Ydris, part of that new body, that new power. The officers shot, finally, but their energy beams encountered slabs of rock to stop them. Stone fists, stone legs, and a big armored head with two red eyes to boot. “¿Can you see now, little men?” the awakened demon asked, bulletproof, growing in size by the moment. “How petty your defenses are, how low have you fallen into complacency? The blue armies won’t protect you!” The stone hulking warrior stomped into the ground and reached to the ceiling, not even bothering to notice the weapons ineffectively been used by the guards. He tore a girder from it, dismantling the police station faster than its own presence destroy itself. Debris was starting to fall, spinning around the rock demon who had made the girder as an improvised hammer, and then his red-eyed helmet bothered to look at the few officers that were still there, thinking, irrationally, that their guns would still make the difference. – And you will be the first to feel it! The first ones to feel Sarran Hatua, the Hammer of Words! – And he wielded the girder, and dropped it suddenly to the ground, ending their misery, their puny existence. And starting his conquest, with blood and debris. For he was Sarran, he was Ydris, he was both. And the only thing he would stop at, would be glory.

**Now**

The little orc stumped to the spaceship cockpit, bordering the smashed door. He did it. He had gone along his wish and had already started what he knew was a glorious path to the stars. Ydris managed to sit on the cockpit and looked at the screen, whose controls he didn’t know a thing about. Sarran Hotua probably knew them, because the autopilot was on, and the destiny was a distant planet which would probably be the best to start his conquest.  
He would have loved to go to his people, to Threll. He would tell them the people of Baeneri was no more. His baptism of fire had already taken place, and he was already a conqueror. A destroyer. He wanted them to look at him, to acknowledge his power, his might. But this planet on the screen didn’t look like Threll. Didn’t look that it would matter. “Why would it” the voice of Sarran Hotua buzzed through his head. “They’ll slow you down, you’ll meet them later, when you have your own power, your own name. They will have their reasons to fear you, and you will be their king. It was a promise, and a pact. Ydris knew it well. But now he couldn’t think of all that power he had gotten. He wouldn’t think of it, because for the first time since he had awakened, he had a mirroring glass in front of him. And now he could see him well.  
Ydris had never considered himself to be pretty. His dwarfism made his body proportions not go the way they were supposed to go, his face looked like it was somehow crushed, his fangs stuck up from behind his lip… But there was a beauty even there. He wasn’t conventionally pretty like all those Baenerian red-faced guys who walked by the shopping district he lived in, but there was certain sincerity on his features, some “Well, this is what I got, take it or leave it” that made Ydris proud of his appearance to some extent. But now…

 Now, he was power, yes. The full face of power had smashed its way through the orc’s inside. But he also was debris. Stone-looking fingers, rigid forearms that could withstand a shot point-blank. The scaly-looking torso armored with stone fragments surrounding the vault door in his belly. The legs, firm, strong, and long. But then, his skin was falling out of the armor. Pieces of his own green fell through the cracks, and, while he kept his face, there was that big, odd-looking stone growing out of his head, like someone had taken two big boulders and had melded them both with his cranium.  
He was power. He was conquest. He knew it didn’t matter which planet he would land into, because he would be able to make floors and walls into his personal armor every time. He would be respected. Feared. People would flee from him. That was his wish, wasn’t it? Then, why so blue, all of a sudden? Why did he had the feeling that the thing looking at him from the glass wasn’t an orc anymore, wasn’t actually Ydris, but some statue that had come to life, and taken his place.

**Five hours ago**

“Mayday, Mayday! Speaking from unit 542, stationed in Baeneri! We have a situation here, I need all the reinforcements you can send! He is... he has leveled the whole station, that stone colossus... I think he’s gone to the spaceport. We cannot stop him, I cannot stop him. Requesting an air raid, even an orbital strike...” The comm glitched.  _“He is here now”_. The voice looked a lot more calm. _“He is the galactic conqueror. Sarran Hotua. Praise him, for he is the Hammer of the Gods”_.

\- Now... - Strategos Six looked at the stadistics in their screen, and the small icon showing them they wereonline with the Big Man. - What do we do, TITAN?

**Author's Note:**

> I changed the OC I made the story about, because, well, I think I prefer letting Kanae & Muqi rest for a bit and have a change of perspective.


End file.
